


A Decison

by ImpishElf



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fighting, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15448059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishElf/pseuds/ImpishElf
Summary: A trip to the Emerald Graves doesn’t go as planned and the Inquisitor gets the push he needs to make a decision about training.





	A Decison

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first writing for Val out of rp. Feedback is appreciated!

The Emerald Graves looked the same as they always did. It was thriving. Everything was rich and lush and, well, _emerald_. It was beautiful, to say the least, but on this visit Valadis Lavellan was paying no attention to the ancient forest, he was too deep in thought. For several months he’d been studying the three disciplines the trainers were offering to teach him. Studying, learning everything he could, gathering the materials all three had required. He could only choose one to actually learn, to master, and he was having a hard time deciding.

  
On the one hand, becoming a Rift Mage seemed like the best option. Learn everything there was to know about rifts while also learning how to harness the magic coming out of them? Or whatever the trainer had said, she had been hard to follow. Regardless, Solas and Dorian both seemed to think that this kind of magic would be worth learning and Val was inclined to agree.

  
The Dalish mage breathed a sigh and glanced over to Dorian and Varric where they rode beside beside him on their respective mounts. They were lost in conversation, complaining about the trip, he thought, and didn’t even notice he was watching them.

  
Ah, Dorian. Beautiful, wonderful Dorian. The sight of his vhenan brought to mind one of the other options on his plate, Necromancy. He’d seen the magic in action plenty of times. Summoning allies from the dead had always seemed like a useful ability, not to mention the other spells he’d learn if he chose to take this path. He was sure Keeper Deshana would disapprove, though, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to disappoint her even from so far away.

  
Val chuckled at the thought and turned his gaze forward, to The Iron Bull, their guide for this trip. Bull was actually leading the group for a few reasons. One, he had actually read and understood the map perfectly, a map which had confused everyone else. Two, he had far more experience in the field than the rest of them. And the most important third reason was because, as a Ben-Hassrath spy, he had an eye for detail no one else could boast. If they ran into trouble, Bull would be the first to recognize it. Also, many would be bandits usually decided against trying anything with a qunari of his size and stature around, especially with the great-axe strapped to his back.

  
The thought of such a weapon brought to mind Val’s third option, the Knight Enchanter discipline. Vivienne favored this magic, and he could understand why. It was strong and gave her an edge in battle no other mage could boast. If he was being perfectly honest, this discipline was the most promising. The only down side was that this magic focused more on combat. The Arcane Enchanter wielded some kind of mana blade and quite often found them self in the thick of battle, fighting hand to hand. The blade cost very little mana to summon and could be quite useful but Val wasn’t good in close range, he couldn’t handle hand to hand. If he chose this discipline he was sure to get himself killed within a week and then where would that leave Dorian? The Inquisition? Thedas?

  
“Boss, trouble ahead. Looks like Venatori.” The sound of Bull’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. He squinted into the dim light filtering through the foliage and sighed.

  
“We’ll dismount here and check it out on foot. If there’s a fight I don’t want to lose one of the animals, it’ll be slower going if we do.”

  
The others must have deemed it a sound plan because they began dismounting as soon as he had finished speaking. It was still so odd to have people listen to him like this, Val thought as he, too, dismounted and led his hart off the road to tie it to a tree out of sight.

  
The four crept slowly through the underbrush, taking the long way around to get a look at things before deciding their next move. At least it didn’t look like there were many Venatori this time. A handful of soldiers, one large man with a war-axe, and maybe a Spellbinder. Val couldn’t tell, the man was facing away from them. He glanced between his companions to make sure they were ready. They had an unspoken agreement about fights like this. Bull would go in first, drawing the attention. Varric would go wherever Varric was needed, setting his traps and pinning their opponents. Dorian and Val would lay down cover fire, literally if necessary, and do what they could to keep the ranged fighters occupied. It had worked out fine the previous times they’d been out together, there was no reason it wouldn’t now.

  
Bull unsheathed his axe and, with a shout, went charging in. No wonder they’re called the Chargers, Val thought as Varric disappeared from his side. He shared a look with Dorian before they, too, took the field.

  
It wasn’t a hard fight, not compared to other fights he’d been in. These soldiers seemed less organized which meant either that they were new to the whole Venatori thing or that the Inquisitor and his group had actually managed to catch them off guard. The downside to this was that they were scattered farther than was preferable. Bull was almost twenty yards away in one direction, Varric ten in the other. Dorian and Val were almost literally back-to-back to keep an eye on it all, and somehow they had lost track of that mage. Val wasn’t sure if the man was lying among the dead or if he’d fled, but he couldn’t see him and it was beginning to wear on his nerves. It didn’t help that Varric’s attempts to keep the big guy busy were starting to fail.

  
They needed to end this, quickly, but he wasn’t sure how. The confidence he’d felt moments ago was beginning to fade. The pieces weren’t falling into place as they should and Val didn’t know how to handle it. He gripped his staff tighter and cast another chain lightning spell at the three surrounding Bull. One fell.

  
Somewhere in the distance Varric was yelling but he couldn’t make out the words, he was too focused on Bull. Then an arrow whizzed past his face and Dorian cursed.

  
“Vishante kaffas! On the hill! More archers!”

  
“Cover me!” Val growled and fade stepped his way within range. In quick succession he cast static cage, to trap them, and chain lightning to hurt. One fell dead, the other two tried to escape and failed. Confident that the energy would keep them useless for a few moments more, Val turned to rejoin the fray and found himself staring at a scene that was definitely _not_ good. It was exactly the opposite.

  
Varric was down, injured but clearly alive, Bull was out of sight completely, and Dorian was staring down the brute, alone. _Not good!_

  
Heart thumping, Val raced across the field, fade-stepping his way closer. He was within reach of his vhenan when he felt it, the tingle of energy that came before a storm. It raced through his body, starting from the top of his head and coursing straight down through his torso, his legs. As his foot came crashing down to meet the earth in another step he realized his mistake. A lightning glyph.

  
The force of the blast sent both him and Dorian flying. The bush Val landed in seemed to close around him, dazed as he was. He fought to stand, struggling against the branches, tearing at the leaves in a panicked rush until finally he was free and standing unsteadily.

  
Dorian.

  
He snatched his staff from where it lay and spun around to find the place he had been standing.

  
“Dorian!” he screamed.

  
But instead of Dorian he found the Spellbinder, only a few yards away. Dorian’s staff stood planted in the ground nearby, the blade at the end a few good inches deep in the dirt.

  
“ _You!_ ” The rush of anger was so sudden, so overwhelming, he couldn’t stop himself. A fireball, stronger than any he had summoned before, erupted from the end of his staff and hit the Spellbinder square in the chest. The man went flying and landed with a sickening crunch against a tree. There was only a brief moment to revel in the satisfaction, to feel the relief that came with the Spellbinder’s death, before reality set in again with the sound of a voice.

  
“Amatus! Val!” Dorian was panicking, Val could hear it.

  
The Spellbinder had been blocking his view and now that the man was gone he could see clearly what was happening. The brute was advancing on Dorian who was backed against a tree with no where to run, no way to escape, and no way to defend himself. One of his arms was limp at his side, his leg was bleeding.

  
A pang of fear raced through the elf. All of his thoughts were a jumbled mess. _I have no mana! I can’t cast anything, I can’t save him! Dorian’s going to die, he’s going to be killed and I can’t do anything!_

  
He started stumbling forward, trying to summon lightning or fire, trying to help. He screamed for Varric, screamed for Bull. His steps became a fumbling run. He crashed forward, tripping over sticks and stones, over corpses and weapons, over his own two feet. The brute lifted his axe and a cold chill ran down his spine. _That was it!_

  
Pooling the last of his mana, Val fade stepped right up to and then _through_ the brute. He stumbled, hit his knees then jumped up and spun around and found a frozen statue resting above his vhenan, the dim light of the forest glinting off of the ice that had overtaken the enemy.

  
Hot tears streamed down his face as he ran to Dorian’s side and pulled the man free, pulled him into his arms and stumbled back. They landed in a heap, Dorian on top of him and his staff lying forgotten at their side. They stayed like that as the brute above them was shattered. Val kept his face buried in Dorian’s neck, his arms wrapped so tightly around the man that it hurt but neither had the will to move. Bull and Varric finished the fight and found them there, entangled.

  
It took more coaxing than either would ever admit to get them up and apart long enough to get them to the horses, and only when they tried to mount did they realize the extent of Dorian’s injuries.  
In that moment Valadis knew. When they got back to Skyhold he would go straight to the trainers, straight to Commander Helaine, and he would learn the Knight Enchanter discipline. He swore, as Bull helped Dorian onto the hart behind him, that never again would he be so defenseless, never again would he not be able to help.

  
He held Dorian’s hand, felt the man’s weight against his back, heard his pained breathing. Dorian was only alive because of sheer dumb luck. As a Knight Enchanter he would ensure that luck would never again determine anyone’s fate.


End file.
